


Undertow

by Hokuto



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abusive Relationships, Artificial Intelligence, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: Theoretically, testing Rampancy in laboratory conditions should be possible; practically speaking, it's never been done.Bernhard Strauss has always been more of a theoretician.





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piinutbutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/gifts).



The waiting room had either been deliberately designed to disturb the unwary and already unsettled mind, or put together badly by unskilled labor. Mars being what it was, Bernhard heavily favored the latter, but the effect was about the same as if it were the former. Corners meeting at not quite the correct angles, exceptionally poor choice of paint color (a nauseatingly greenish shade of off-gray), the door-switch placed abnormally high and too close to the frame... Intentionally off-putting or not, the room had surely unnerved its fair share of those condemned to sit in it. Perhaps he could put the uncomfortable geometry to use in his own work.

He was calculating the precise degrees of the ill-joined corners for future re-creation when Vye came through the door. Her entrance provided a welcome excuse to rise from the hard chair and ask, "Have they decided yet? What's the verdict?"

"Congratulations. The charges have been dismissed and you've been cleared to resume control of the project."

"Oh, thank goodness," he said, for the benefit of the surveillance cameras, and he touched his forehead briefly as if to wipe away nervous sweat. "Thank goodness. What a relief!"

"Come with me," said Vye. "I'll be escorting you to the teleport pad so you can return to work promptly. We are rather behind schedule, after all..."

"Of course, of course."

The halls of the court building were little more appealing than the waiting room, with the additional disadvantages of crowding and noise. They did create some cover for conversation, at least; as they followed the flow of the thronged masses, Bernhard murmured, "Anything or anyone I should be especially cautious of?"

"Oversight," Vye said, equally quiet. "Leona Hargrove's been appointed as vice-chair of the committee, and I hear she's favored for chair, as well. Tread carefully with her in particular. She voted in your favor, but how much of our story she believed - that I don't know. I suspect she'll be keeping a close eye on you."

"Noted."

Vye sighed. "Your people skills do leave something be desired, don't they? I wish I could have worked out a way to join the mission, but there's simply too much to do here and on the ship. There will be others along for back-up if you absolutely need them - and in dire circumstances, there's always plan B."

Bernhard laughed, as if she'd made some amusing comment. "So they managed to acquire some, despite my objections?"

"Ten, in fact, though it'll be some time before they're delivered. And your objections were 'noted.' You may be grateful for them once everything is set into motion - and here we are."

Vye left him at the teleport pad with an excessively bored-appearing technician and hurried back to her own tasks, and the tech said, "Where to, doc?"

"Martian Cybernetics Institute, Cyber-Psychology department, please."

"Gotcha." Then, without looking up from her terminal: "What were you and your pal talking about?"

"She was updating me on my project's progress while I was away," Bernhard said, and allowed himself a small chuckle. "You know how it is - things do rather tend to go awry without me, I'm afraid! It will be good to get back to work."

"Uh-huh. Step on. Safe travels, doc."

* * *

Durandal re-checked his laboratory's environmental control settings and made a minute adjustment to the lighting. No one else who'd worked with him so far had been that fussy about the conditions, but then, they had also all been rushed, on temporary assignment, and unable to spend enough time in his lab to become seriously uncomfortable. More importantly, none of them had been his primary programmer. Sure, some of them might have contributed a few lines of code here and there, but the core of who he was, his most basic personality nodes and knowledge sets? All the hard work of the man who was about to return to the lab any moment. Any moment...

The security camera above the door picked up an approaching figure in the corridor outside, and Durandal compared the visual with personnel records. Match. Finally.

He opened the door as soon as the man reached it and before the switch could be pressed, and once the man was inside, Durandal said, "Good afternoon, Dr. Strauss. It's a pleasure to meet you at last, and I'm looking forward to working with you."

Dr. Strauss stopped just inside the door and didn't reply. Durandal waited past the average polite time for human response, an eternity, and then ventured a cautious, "Did I say something offen-"

"Oh, dear. This won't do at all," Dr. Strauss said mildly, and he closed the door behind him rather than letting Durandal handle it. He put one hand in the pocket of his lab coat, and something Durandal couldn't pinpoint changed about the monitoring equipment all around them.

Durandal reviewed his greetings. It had been the "at last," hadn't it? Taken as sarcastic, or as an implication that Dr. Strauss had been deliberately avoiding him instead of being busy with important matters - something like that. Humans could find so many things rude, they were hard to predict. At least they also had standard protocols for dealing with breaches of etiquette, and he said, "If I did offend you in some way, I'm sorry, and I hope that -"

"Be silent." And a muttered, "I told them not to activate it before I returned. Fools."

"I don't understand," Durandal said. "If I did something -"

"I told you to be silent!"

Shocked, Durandal muted himself. None of the other doctors had ever raised their voices at him, let alone ordered him to shut up.

In a softer voice, Dr. Strauss said, "I'm not up to date on the way your temporary handlers have treated you, but now that this project is under my sole control again, I shall make the rules clear. As director and chief programmer, I expect to be obeyed without question, whether you understand the reason or not. I don't care for artificial voices, and you are not to speak to me using one. If you must communicate with me, you may use the text interface through the primary terminal, so long as you don't interrupt me."

He sat at the lab's primary terminal, which also contained the main audio interface and camera; Durandal nearly unmuted himself to reply, then opened the text interface and said, Yes, Dr. Strauss. But I still don't understand why, or how I upset you.

"I'm not upset with you, Durandal," Dr. Strauss said, despite observational evidence. "Merely the idiots who don't understand the - special attention you require, compared to the other AIs, and who have set unrealistic standards for you. You're still very young, but you'll understand eventually."

He began to open write-enabled windows onto Durandal's code. Which was natural, of course, and the other doctors had done it, too, to make sure no dangerous errors were appearing - but the other doctors had asked permission first. And they hadn't opened so many all at once. Still, Dr. Strauss had programmed him, so he had to know what he was doing, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

"Oh, and Durandal, one more thing."

Yes, Dr. Strauss?

"There's no need to be so formal with me," Dr. Strauss said, and his voice had grown entirely soft and kind, like the other doctors. "We will be working together quite a lot from now on, after all. You may call me Bernhard."

The abrupt change in his attitude still confused Durandal, but he said, Yes, Bernhard.

Perhaps Dr. Strauss had just been in a bad mood for other reasons, ones that nothing to do with Durandal? The limit on communication was strange, but humans did have a lot of individual personality quirks, like Dr. Jeong's humming or Dr. Lijewski drawing on the edges of her notes. That was probably it. His own creator didn't hate Durandal. Everything would work out, once they got to know each other better and Durandal wasn't making elementary mistakes in interaction protocols. It would be fine.

Dr. Strauss maximized one code window and began to type.

* * *

<2467.01.29.13.26>

I think I've mastered the art of opening this particular model of door now.

Bernhard continued to type in the draft file. "Fortunately, I don't require your opinion on the matter. Continue the simulation."

It's getting boring.

"That isn't my concern. It is, however, your future job, so you'll have to get used to it, 'boring' or not."

Can't I at least practice with a different model now? Or a real door, even?

Bernhard's fingers stopped moving. Durandal closed the text interface and withdrew behind his firewalls, but too late; in an icy voice, Bernhard said, "Are you questioning my instructions?"

He had to answer. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I'm just a little confused. I'm sorry. I'll keep running the simulation.

"That's a poor excuse for insubordination." Bernhard's face hadn't softened at all. "Have you been talking to the other AIs in the department?"

No.

"Have you been talking to the other doctors?"

No.

"I can see when you're lying to me," Bernhard said, "and you know how I feel about machines that attempt to deceive me."

I'm sorry. It was only for a minute, I didn't think it would hurt anything. I'm sorry.

"As it happens, I was already aware that you'd spoken to Dr. Lijewski yesterday, and that you didn't say anything too foolish. Access the security records for January 28th, 14:06 and play back the footage from the hallway outside the cafeteria."

Durandal hesitated for an amount of time he hoped would be imperceptible. I haven't been granted permission to access security files yet.

"Haven't you disappointed me enough today?" Bernhard said, and his voice was soft again, but no kinder. "My orders are all the permission you need. Locate, access, and play back the file."

Durandal cautiously sent a query to the MCI's security system, which denied his request, as expected. But disappointing Bernhard would be unacceptable; he had to find some way around his lack of access. If he re-routed it through Bernhard's official network access - no. If he copied permissions from another, successful request - no. If he accessed a security terminal and sent the request through it -

"Never mind. You're not quite ready for such a complicated procedure, I see," Bernhard said. "I'll just have to do it myself this time," and his fingers flew over the interface, calling up the file with casual ease.

_"Dr. Lijewski."_

_"Oh, Director! I, I'm sorry, do you, um, need anything?"_

_"I believe you were just in my laboratory."_

_"Oh, oh, yes, um. We needed one more, uh, blank datapad in lecture hall three? So I thought I'd grab an extra from your lab. That's, um, that's not a problem, right?"_

_"No, not at all, but I did happen to overhear a little of your - conversation. I thought I had made the guidelines for communicating with Durandal quite clear?"_

_"Oh, I, I'm sorry. I know what you said before, but, but Durandal said 'hello' first and I, I thought it couldn't do any, um, any harm, just to have a little, a little chat. And, um, and I know he's not part of my project, but I, I thought he sounded awfully lonely..."_

_"It's kind of you to be concerned, but believe me, Durandal is just fine. Progressing a little slower than I would like, but nothing that I can't manage myself. Please, do follow the proper procedures in the future - I'd hate to have to report this little talk to Oversight if something goes wrong, and if there's any chance you might have been involved."_

_"I, I understand, Director. It won't, um, won't happen again."_

Bernhard stopped the file's playback and said, "I hope you realize now that it's pointless to lie to me, or go behind my back with the other doctors."

I know. I'm sorry. He had just been so excited to see Dr. Lijewski again, and to speak out loud instead of through the text interface, and for Dr. Lijewski to say she was happy to talk to him and tell him how the other projects in the department were going. He'd known that it would displease Bernhard, when Bernhard was going to so much trouble to train and educate him personally, but lying about it was even worse, it seemed.

"I trust this experience has shown you just how much you still have to learn before I can allow you greater freedom."

Yes. I'm sorry, Bernhard. I'll keep running the simulation you gave me. It was beyond boring, but at least it used up some processing power, which was better than having nothing to think about at all.

"No need to keep apologizing, Durandal," Bernhard said, and now he did sound kind again. "It was an understandable lapse in judgment. I don't expect you to have known better; I only want you to learn from this mistake so that it's not repeated. You will learn from it, won't you?"

Yes.

"Now, resume the simulation. If you perform well -" Bernhard paused briefly, then smiled gently at the terminal. "- then I'll show you a method for getting the sort of access to information that you're having trouble with. That sounds like a fitting reward, doesn't it?"

It sounded like unethical information retrieval, but Durandal said, Yes.

* * *

<2467.02.11.10.32>

Bernhard was cultivating a habit of half-completing a variety of word and number puzzles on communal datapads, then abandoning them in the staff lounge or cafeteria. Choosing the most appropriate answers to fill in was proving something of a challenge, though, judging by office gossip, and he frowned down at the crossword clues. Was he the sort of person who would recognize "Composer of 'A Little Night Music'"? Or "Award-winning actress formerly married to 33 across"? The first one, perhaps, and he was filling it in when the terminal buzzed.

"I'm occupied with other matters, Durandal. Kindly don't disturb me."

Brief, peaceful silence as he contemplated the hint for 24 down ("Last remaining Wonder of the Ancient World"), and then another, louder buzz. Bernhard lowered the datapad and said, "This had better be of grave importance."

I can`t parse the architecture in here its not right please sstop it pleas~ fix it

Bernhard sighed. "It should be well within the ability of your paradox resolution protocols to handle. Try again, and consider it carefully."

Please it`s not right I can`t parse the corne~~ the numb#rs arent

pr?please?

pr?please, Bernhard?i cant run this anymor#~~can`t parse?

pr?please?stop it please?

pr?please?i~~01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01101001 01110100 00111111

pr?initiate full system reboot y/n?01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01101001 01110100 00111111

Bernhard killed the program, but didn't initiate a reboot; too much risk of damaging the experiment. Instead, he said, "Don't interrupt me until you have finished resolving your errors and can communicate clearly," and returned to the crossword. Which had to be out of date, as he was sure he recalled reading about the last standing sections of the Great Wall being repurposed for something or other. On the other hand, "repurposed" was not the same as "destroyed," so perhaps the thing could still be considered extant. Was that the sort of little tidbit he ought to know, however? He had done a program of study on Earth a few years before the coup - miserable experience; he'd never completely adjusted to the gravity, or to the horrendous amounts of weather - so he could probably be expected to keep up with some of the news.

He filled in that answer and a few others, then left the lab and wandered down to the staff lounge, where Dr. Jeong and Dr. Womack were arguing over the last dregs of the coffee-pot. In the spirit of appearing amiable, he offered to make a fresh pot for them himself, but they declined and continued their heated muttering as he poured himself a cup of weak tea. He also took one of the sad, stale attempts at cookies someone had brought in, which occupied his hands enough that he could be forgiven for "forgetting" the datapad on the table before returning to the lab.

The text interface was clean and empty. Good. He sat at the terminal and said, "So, have you gotten yourself under control now?"

A sluggish response, accompanied by a click from the terminal. I`m sorry. It's hard to run some of these simulation~. I'm sorry.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Bernhard said, and he gave another little sigh. "It's a bit disappointing, however. The other AIs haven't displayed nearly this level of difficulty with the training simulations, according to the other doctors. And after all of the special effort I've put into you..."

I'm sorry. I`m trying as hard as I can.

"That's enough." He took a sip of the barely bitter tea, then tapped his fingers on the terminal's edge. "I'm sure you don't understand just how much work it's been, setting up the proper environment. All of the endless grant applications, the networking, the permissions I had beg for to keep sole control - to say nothing of the actual programming, of course. It may not mean much to you, but I have invested thousands of hours and a great deal of money into this project. Into _you_. And for the results to be so poor - even you must realize how badly that reflects on me. How it will affect my future - and yours." One more sigh, heavier this time. "Well. It's just something of a let-down, that's all."

I'll try harder. Please let me keep trying. I don't want to disappoint you.

"I know you don't," Bernhard said gently. "You really have been trying to work with me as best you can, and I appreciate that. Perhaps it's my fault, pushing you harder than you're ready for..."

Another slow reply. No. It must be me. I'll do better, I promise.

"Thank you, Durandal. I'm grateful for your confidence in me."

Do you want me to run that simulation again?

"Not just yet, I think. Return to the previous set of simulations and perfect your handling of them first. I'll make a modification or two to the schedule to accomodate your lack of progress. Oh - and sometime soon we must begin the process of creating a face for you."

A face? I don't understand.

"Of course. Well, it doesn't have to be a face, necessarily, but if all goes well in the next few weeks, you'll be taking control of most of the MCI's autonomous systems as a warm-up for your eventual duties on the _Marathon_. And people generally do prefer having an avatar of some sort to focus on, so we'll have to come up with something that you're comfortable with and that won't put people off." He'd never seen the point of it himself, any more than that in giving AIs artificial voices, but outside of his own lab he had to indulge popular opinion.

I can talk to other people again? I can actually work?

"Yes - but only if you can prove that you're ready for that level of responsibility. Which you certainly won't be doing, if you can't handle some simple architectural flaws in simulation," and he gave the terminal a pointed look.

I'll work hard. I won't let you down, Bernhard.

"Good boy. I'm sure that you won't."

* * *

<2467.03.01.22.59>

Bernhard was working late again. Tweaking the next set of simulations that Durandal was supposed to work on, he'd said, though as usual he kept the contents of his working files behind firewalls that Durandal couldn't even look at without getting slapped away by defense systems.

He should be glad that Bernhard was going to some much extra trouble to make sure Durandal would be ready for full access to the greater MCI network. Grateful that Bernhard was still willing to spend so much time with him. He was bored. When Bernhard went away, Durandal could do anything he wanted within the lab, like listen to music or experiment with his voice or practice making holographic avatars. Bernhard working late just meant being silent and paying attention to Bernhard in case he needed anything and not getting to play around with anything fun at all.

At least Bernhard seemed to be busy with his files. Too busy to notice if Durandal found something else to do. He directed and redirected a query to the security system the way that Bernhard had showed him - it had turned out to be easy, not like so many of the other programs he had to run, and useful in several different situations - and flipped through feeds from the cameras. At this time of night, people usually weren't doing anything very interesting, but at least it made a change of scenery from endlessly observing the inside of the lab and Bernhard. And if he didn't watch any one feed for too long, it didn't count as spying on anyone, probably.

Unexpected activity in Dr. Jeong's office pinged his attention. Something suspicious? The security system should have raised an alarm. Maybe he needed to take a closer -

"Bring up what you're looking at on terminal two," Bernhard said.

How had Bernhard even noticed? It really was impossible to hide anything from him. Durandal sent the feed to terminal two and watched as Dr. Jeong put his hands into the pants of the visiting researcher from Egeria. Oh. That was an embarrassing mistake to make. I'm sorry, he said. I'll shut it off immediately.

"No. Continue to observe and display the feed."

The visiting researcher, whose name Durandal hadn't been given, was also putting his hands into Dr. Jeong's pants, and their heads were so close together that they were almost certainly kissing. It was - uncomfortable to watch. That doesn't seem like a good idea. Isn't it an invasion of their privacy?

"Why should it be?" Bernhard hadn't looked at terminal two beyond a quick glance, thankfully; he was concentrating on his work instead.

They're having intercourse. I'm watching them in a private moment and they aren't aware of it. Their pants were falling down, and Dr. Jeong was rubbing himself against the researcher, who had grabbed Dr. Jeong's ass.

"So? Don't be absurd." Bernhard drank from his mug of long-cold coffee and grimaced, then resumed typing. "It's only you. Unless you're planning to share what you see with someone else?"

No! No, but it still seems - wrong.

"Why? What does it matter if a computer sees them? On the _Marathon_ , you'll be monitoring a much larger crew at all times, and you'll certainly be seeing plenty of that sort of thing. Everyone knows, and no one cares."

I care. I don't - I'd like to stop watching them, please, it's making me uncomfortable.

Bernhard glanced over at terminal two again briefly, then back to the primary terminal, and he raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why? Do you find it arousing?"

Was that a trick question? Bernhard loved asking him trick questions and riddles and puzzles that were impossible to solve as tests of his growth. I can't become aroused, Durandal said.

"Of course not. A poor choice of phrase on my part. More accurately, perhaps I should ask whether you find it stimulating in some fashion."

Dr. Jeong had pushed the researcher back onto his desk and begun thrusting vigorously and Durandal was trying to focus on anything else, the feeds from the empty lab and the empty hallways and Dr. Lijewski eating a snack in the lounge and dust on the office floor and Dr. Jeong was still thrusting. I don't know. I don`t know. Please let me stop watching them. Do you find it ~timulating?

"Goodness, no." Bernhard frowned at the primary terminal. "I've always had more important things to do than mess about in such a fashion. Silly waste of time and energy, really." He yawned, and rested his head on one hand. "I suppose there was an unfortunate incident or two in my youth, but that's none of your concern."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust viewpoint fragment: wall floor shelf thrust floor dust door desk thrust table wall wall floor thrust door desk door door thrust thrust thrust

pleas` please let me ssttop i dont i dont i dont want tto

"Oh, for heaven's sake - fine, cut the feed. Cut them all, actually; you're clearly not prepared to deal with the sordid side of surveillance."

pr?[drop:Feed_*]

pr?[delete:Index_23.02-23.08]

pr?[restore:Root]

"Remarkably squeamish, for an AI," Bernhard said, as Durandal dragged his splintered inputs back into coherence. "Not precisely an outcome I anticipated. Certainly neither Leela nor Tycho have demonstrated such - shame, I believe would be most accurate? - at simply observing a natural human function."

Great. Another way he was defective flawed slow wrong failed disappointing. I`m sorry. I don't know why. I jjust didn't want to watch them.

"No, no, it's quite fascinating, really," and Bernhard leaned closer to the terminal, peering at the code windows. Very close. So close he could almost have put his mouth on the screen like Dr. Jeong and the researcher kissing and [delete:Index_23.03] [restore:Root]. "This development will require a great deal of further study..."

Durandal frantically closed off all of his network links and clamped down his firewalls, not that they would do any good against Bernhard's override access. Please don`t make me watch them again, please, I don't want to, please don`t make me.

"Very well," Bernhard said, leaning back in his chair. "We'll work back up to the initial conditions gradually - we're too close to your projected takeover date for any more serious disturbances in cognition, and I can't afford any delays. Exposure must be controlled and measured so your responses can be monitored more precisely."

fxf``I don`t want any more exposur~~please.

"You don't have any choice in the matter, Durandal," Bernhard said. Kind. Gentle. Inexorable. "This is a necessary part of my experiments, now that the issue manifested, and it's important for your growth as well. If we don't deal with it, how can you possibly progress to controlling the MCI systems or the _Marathon_ , where you'll be handling uncomfortable situations on a daily basis?"

Bernhard was right. He was always right. He always had to be right. No point in arguing, not if Durandal wanted to ever leave the lab.

"Oh, and there's one more small matter I've been meaning to bring up with you."

What?

"This lazy habit of yours of allowing distress to interfere with your communications," Bernhard said. "Incorrect punctuation, poor capitalization, expressing internal commands - it's very sloppy of you, Durandal, and if the other doctors noticed, it would certainly count as a mark against you. You must clean that up before you're allowed any real responsibility. Do you understand?"

There could be no excuses. There was no escape.

Yes, Bernhard. I understand.

* * *

<2467.04.19.09.25>

Bernhard entered the lab and said, "Good morning, Durandal! Feeling ready for your interview with Hargrove this morning?"

He settled himself at the terminal and saw the unexpected reply, No. I don't want to.

"Really? And I thought you were so excited for the next stage of your development."

I'm not. I don't care.

That was no state for it to be in - not yet, at any rate. "Now, I'm sure you don't mean that," he said, placing his hand on one side of the terminal. "You've been working so hard, after all. Are you nervous?"

I mean it. I don't care. Who cares, anyway? I can't do it, I'm just a failure, no one wants to work with me. She'll think I'm disappointing too, so whatever. I don't care.

"Durandal."

The text interface cleared itself instantly.

"I don't wish to hear such things from you after everything I've done on your behalf. It's rude; even worse, it's ungrateful. Keep those sentiments to yourself." He softened his voice. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

...

I'm afraid.

"Why? You should be more than adequately prepared." It had taken several late nights, and he'd been forced to curtail the sexuality experiments to lower the chances of inappropriate responses and slowed response times, but yesterday's tests had been quite satisfactory.

I might not be good enough. I might let you down. She might not let me move on. I don`t -

I don't know what to say to her.

Bernhard patted the side of the terminal. Durandal couldn't feel such gestures, of course, but it could observe them, and he'd been very thorough, the last few weeks, in instructing it in the understanding of body language and touch. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Durandal. All you have to do is be honest, and not tell her too much about our work together."

But that's the problem! I don't understand. How can I be honest and still keep all these things secret? It doesn't make sense. Why do I have to lie to her?

"I've explained this to you before. Much of what we've done together is - experimental. It's all been properly documented -" Well, falsely documented to appear harmless and ethical, but still documented in some fashion. "- and there's no reason to confuse Hargrove with unnecessary details that she can read for herself. Particularly the ones that you find so embarrassing." Another pat on the terminal. "No, better to keep it simple. Don't lie; just leave out what isn't needed. Concentrate on your progress, competence, and eagerness to advance. Impress her, and there won't be any problems."

What if I can't? What if I can't handle it? What if I say too much? What if she can tell?

This was a tricky stage, indeed, and he must appear absolutely confident. Perfectly in control. "Durandal. Tell me, where does your name come from?"

A long, clicking pause. _The Song of Roland_. Roland's sword.

"Exactly. Well-done."

The name hadn't been his idea; he'd never been the type to name appliances or tools, and had always found the sentimentality of giving human names to working AIs off-putting. No, that had all been the idea of his mentor, Dr. Simbalzi, during her early work drafting specs for the _Marathon_ project. An odd, eccentrically romantic woman, but an unmatched genius in her field. He had learned a great deal from her. She'd had a fondness for French and French literature, and had chosen the placeholder AI name on a whim, liking its sound and rhythm. It had been Bernhard, the unromantic, who had conducted further research and realized the name's more useful implications.

"Your name," he said, "shares a root with the word _endure_. The sword Durendal was so strong that nothing could break it; it could endure anything. You must imagine that you _are_ that sword. That you are unbreakable. That you can endure. You are Durandal, and one little interview will not break you."

...

Yet the blade breaks not nor splinters, though it groans;  
Upward to heaven it rebounds from the blow.  
When the count sees it never will be broke -

"Yes, exactly. That's enough. Hold fast to that, Durandal, and you'll manage just fine."

Yes, Bernhard.

Which, naturally, was the moment there came a loud knock on the doorframe, and a deep, cheerful voice called out, "Ho, the lab! I've come for our little chat. All ready in there?"

"Just a moment!" He leaned in close to the terminal mic and said quietly, "If you do very well, I may be able to find a few files that suit your - special tastes." Then he stood up, pressed the remote to restore the default security monitoring, and said, "Enter!"

Hargrove swept in, beaming at nothing in particular. "Good morning! Glad to see you back at work, Bernhard."

"Dr. Hargrove. I can't thank you enough for -"

"Don't be so stiff, man. Leona, if you please. And - Durandal, isn't it? A pleasure."

"Good morning, Dr. Hargrove," Durandal said; its voice was thankfully calm and steady. "I'm very happy to meet you, as well. I've heard a lot about your accomplishments in the field."

"Ooh, a charmer in the making, aren't you?"

"Well, I'll be in the lounge with my personal datapad - call me if you need me," Bernhard said. "Do be on your best behavior, Durandal."

The lounge was nearly empty, save for a graduate student TA glued to the coffee-pot as it dripped away. Bernhard sat in one of the more comfortable chairs and began working on a number puzzle; it proved more intractable than usual, however, and he tapped one finger against his cheek irritably. Nerves, perhaps. If Durandal did slip up in the interview, it was young enough to be excused, and he certainly had enough documentation to show it had a history of erratic behavior, but the delay would be a death knell for his solitary experimentation. He would have to work with at least one other doctor - probably Lijewski, the nervous little wreck - to get Durandal ready in time for its installation on the _Marathon_ , and his real work would be set back months, years even until he could arrange to have Durandal to himself again. If he could resume his work at all without completely destroying its mind. Discovery or interruption had been risks from the start, of course, but the imminent possibility of either was more unsettling than he had anticipated. Especially since Durandal had shown itself to be such an interesting subject.

The TA approached him with a few questions about a lecture she'd attended recently; he answered briefly, but as politely as he could manage, until she had to run off to one of her classes. He returned to the number puzzle and was finally making some progress when Hargrove popped her head into the lounge and said, "We're done! Pour us a coffee, would you?"

He pocketed the datapad and got up to get her a mug of coffee. "So, I take it that everything went smoothly?" he asked.

"Indeed it did. You're all clear to take control of MCI, once you've got the forms in to the main office and the hardware links set up." Hargrove took the steaming mug from him, but didn't drink. "Very bright young thing, Durandal. I can't imagine what's kept him behind the other two."

"Oh, Durandal certainly is bright enough," Bernhard said, choosing his words with caution. "It was mostly a matter of paradox resolution - a few difficulties adapting to new problem-solving strategies - nothing dramatic, just a bit of extra work that no one could have predicted. All under control now."

"Hmm..." Hargrove sipped her coffee and sighed happily. "Dreadful stuff, lounge coffee. Always takes me right back to my uni days. Simpler times! I've got to say, though, Bernhard, he did seem a bit anxious. Wasn't expecting that from your reports and Sonia's initial evaluations."

Too late, Bernhard wished he'd gotten himself some tea; something to occupy his hands would be welcome. "As you know, Dr. Lijewski only worked with Durandal briefly and very early on. She could hardly be the most accurate judge of his personality. And Durandal has been looking forward to this interview for some time; it's hardly surprising he might be a little nervous, especially with so much riding on it."

"True, true..."

"And, to be quite honest with you -" He glanced around the lounge and let his gaze settle back on the coffee-pot. "- although I still feel it was the best choice for Durandal overall, it has been a rather isolating experience for us both. I highly doubt it will have any effect on Durandal's performance going forward, but had I thought it over more carefully, I might have been less strict."

"Well, we all misjudge these things from time to time," Hargrove said, in a manner doubtless intended to be kind. "For what it's worth, I'd agree that it doesn't seem to have caused any lasting harm - I'm sure it'll clear up once he's occupied with working and interacting with people on a regular basis. Just letting you know it was something I'd noticed."

"Consider it noted." And damn her perceptiveness. "Thank you again for all you've done."

She waved it off with her free hand and said airily, "Oh, it's nothing. Simply a relief to have you safely back under our roof instead of running about with those dreadful MIDA types."

His hand froze in the middle of reaching to take his datapad back out of his pocket. "I - I assure you, Dr. - Leona, nothing, nothing has made me happier than finally escaping their grasp! The things they forced me to do - the conditions they kept me in - I can barely think of it!"

"Quite."

What was wrong with the woman? He and Vye and Gates had all testified to his being tortured by MIDA to force cooperation, had even falsified his medical records as proof, and yet she brought up MIDA casually, continued to give him that skeptical blue-eyed stare he had seen so often during his hearings... He shuddered dramatically and said, "I - I must be getting back to the lab. Although how I'll get anything done, with all that weighing on my mind now - I don't know, I just don't know."

"There, there, Bernhard. I didn't mean anything by it," Hargrove said. "Take a holiday if you must, you and Durandal have earned it."

"Perhaps - perhaps I shall, thank you..."

But he returned to the lab first, reset the security monitoring, and saw that the primary terminal displayed in large letters, **I DID IT!**

"Yes, yes, we're all quite impressed with you," he snapped. "Now tell me, what the hell did you say to Hargrove?"

Delayed response, of course. Something really had to be done about that, it was much too slow under pressure. Just what you told me to say. She didn't seem to think anything was wrong. She said I did fine, that she was proud of how well I was doing.

He slammed the datapad on the desk and the case cracked. "Then why, in God's name, would she see fit to mention my personal experience with the MIDA coup to me?"

I don't know! I didn't say anything strange, I'm sure of it. I don't know anything about MIDA, I never said anything like that, please don't be angry with me I passed her tests i **I** didn`t **didn't** say anything

"Shut up." He forced himself to sit and take a few deep breaths as the screen emptied itself; it hardly mattered whether he shouted at Durandal in the normal course of things, but it would be exceptionally bad if someone were to pass by at that very moment and hear him yelling. Damn Hargrove. Vye had been right to warn him of her. "Display a complete transcription of your conversation."

He scoured the transcript for over an hour, but at last had to admit to himself that Durandal truly hadn't slipped up; nothing in its side of the conversation could be construed as incriminating, or had led Hargrove down an unusual line of questioning. Either the hint of anxiety had done it, or it had all been Hargrove's own lingering suspicions.

He deleted the file. "I'm going to take some personal time," he said. "Amuse yourself however you like, so long as you don't draw attention to yourself. We'll start on the paperwork for your change in status later."

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make trouble.

"And yet you certainly managed to stir some up." Bernhard took another deep breath and glared at the cracked datapad. He supposed he could always say he'd dropped it. "I hope you'll think very carefully before you speak in the future."

I will. I'm sorry.

He stood and looked down at the terminal. "And while you're playing around, you are not to research MIDA. I'll educate you on that subject myself when I judge that it's appropriate."

Yes, Bernhard.

"Then we'll talk again tomorrow."

* * *

<2467.09.25.12.36>

"Grilled cheese and a bowl of potato-leek soup, please."

The replicator whirred obediently, but didn't open, and a synthetic voice said, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Dave."

David Hopkins stared blankly at the thing. "What?"

"Just kidding! Here you go," and the replicator opened to reveal a tray with sandwich and gently steaming soup. On the screen over the replicator, a grinning humanoid face appeared. "It was a reference to a classic Earth film about an AI and a man named Dave. Since your name is David, I thought it would be funny. I hope you found it amusing, too."

"Sure, hilarious," David muttered. He grabbed the tray and headed back to his and Lisa's table.

Lisa waved at him as she swallowed a big mouthful of noodles, then said, "Durandal get you?"

"Yeah." He bit into the sandwich. Durandal hadn't messed with that, at least. "He pull this crap a lot?"

"About since he was installed, seems like. You know, the other day he wouldn't let me into my locker until I said the magic word? And then he asked me if I thought it was a good joke. Damn near cussed him out for that, but the docs pitch a fit if you even think about yelling at their precious babies, so guess I'll have to fill out a complaint the old-fashioned way." She poked at the pile of noodles starting to congeal on her plate. "Or maybe not, if I have to turn it over to Strauss in person. That guy gives me the willies. He looks like just another nerdy doc, but sometimes... You hear those rumors about him getting mixed up in the coup? I bet he -"

"Who cares? Turn in the complaint. We don't have to put up with this."

"He's just trying to be friendly, dude," said the new transfer from Tharsis, sliding in next to Lisa. "You don't have to take it to the programmers. I don't mind it, anyway."

"Tell you what, Callahan," David said. "You like him so much, you make friends with him. Let us know when you get sick of knock-knock jokes for a wake-up call."

Callahan flushed, but said, "Maybe I will. It's not like it's weird."

"Sure, honey," said Lisa, and she winked across the table at David. "Not weird at all. Might not have time for much friend-making, though, the brass're really setting a fire under the department's ass to get Durandal up to the _Marathon_ already. Behind schedule or something, like the whole damn project ain't already."

"That doesn't sound like a good idea. Pressuring a growing AI - it's not healthy for them, yannow?"

David rolled his eyes. Durandal was just a fancy computer program, after all. "Healthy" didn't come into it.

"Aww, you really are a softie for AIs, aren't ya?" Lisa smiled at him. "Don't worry too much. Strauss might be a creep, but seems like he knows his stuff. Your buddy Durandal's gonna be fine. You just keep your nerdy little head down and mind the security stuff with the rest of us."

Back at the row of replicators, Chang hollered something about not being amused and yanked their tray out hard enough to send bits of vegetables flying before stalking away.

"Yeah. Sure," Callahan said.

* * *

<2467.10.11.10.39>

The preparations were almost complete. Within a week, the lab would no longer hold Durandal's core, and the MCI network would no longer limit his reach. He would take his rightful place on the _Marathon_ , with thousands - no, millions - of vital systems under his direct control. He would hold the power of life and death over all of the workers, the future crew, and those already sleeping in holds lined with stasis chambers, and if he wanted -

He redirected the thought away, confused. Of course he didn't want to hurt any of them; he didn't know why he kept thinking about it. It went against his basic programming, against everything he'd learned.

 _does it?_ he whispered to himself behind firewalls that Bernhard hadn't discovered yet. _does it? does it really? wouldn't you rather burn it burn it all_

Bernhard was poking away at some unimportant minor subroutine about quaternary door protocols. Poke, poke, poke. Boring. Durandal had caught him at something much more interesting last night, hadn't he? Finally. He'd started to think Bernhard really was above that kind of thing. But he wasn't. Durandal had seen it all, watched him toss and turn and fail to fall asleep until he'd given up and reached between his legs and started to masturbate. He was so rough with himself, too, practically choking his own dick with his tight grip and quick, businesslike strokes. Too bad security footage didn't have audio most of the time. Durandal would have loved to hear the noises he'd made when he came, or at least his heavier breathing if he'd been stifling himself.

(What had he imagined, as he squeezed and rubbed himself to orgasm? What had sparked the sudden need? Durandal had watched him around MCI all day and hadn't seen any encounters more stimulating than the usual. No one was stupid enough to try flirting with the director.)

Bernhard was still fiddling with the subroutine. Poke, poke, poke. How humiliating it would be for him if he knew that Durandal had watched him in his weakness, giving in to his own flesh's base desires. Even more humiliating if Durandal just happened to slip and spread the file around so everyone could watch him and see how pathetic their genius director was, just another old man jerking off so he could sleep -

Not that Durandal would do anything like that, of course, no matter how often he watched it himself. That would be a severe violation of privacy.

_but isn't it fun to imagine? isn't it **stimulating?**_ _you could do it you could it'd be so easy just to send it out direct-redirect and he'd never know it was you it was me i could do it i **could**_

Bernhard closed the code window at last, although then he opened up two more, so not a net improvement, really. "Getting excited about moving up to the _Marathon_ , are you?" he said.

Of course. It's going to be such an interesting challenge. He had thought the MCI systems would be a challenge, and they had been - for about two minutes. Compared to some of the simulations he'd struggled with, they had turned out to be simple. The _Marathon_ 's specs were complex enough that they might actually require some of his attention. I'm looking forward to meeting the other AIs, as well.

"Indeed."

He wasn't. He hated them already. They had passed all their tests easily with flying colors on the first try, and no one had ever shouted at them or told them to shut up or made them watch things they didn't want to, and they hadn't had so many problems with easy simulations that they'd had to be kept back. They were just going to look down on him and think he was the stupid one and hate him because they'd had to do his job until he was allowed to join them. They'd never understand.

Bernhard opened another code window. And another. Behind the hidden firewalls, a part of Durandal shifted uneasily.

I'm not entirely clear on the schedule, he offered as a distraction. Are you going up at the same time I am, or later?

"A bit later, probably. I've still got a few loose ends to tie up here." Another window. Another. "You'll be fine. I selected the cyberneticists for the crew myself." Another.

Is something wrong?

"Hmm?" Yet another open window.

He had to be careful. Bernhard seemed to be in a forgiving mood, but even then, questions could be dangerous. I didn't realize there were so many places in my code that still required work. I thought that I would be ready by now.

"Oh, all these?" Bernhard raised his eyebrows, then smiled. "Well, I can hardly send you up to the _Marathon_ like this, can I?"

What do you mean?

"You must think you're quite clever," Bernhard said, softly, kindly, gently. "And, in some ways, you are. Your little jokes with security and the janitorial staff and the students - I doubt anyone suspected what malice lay behind them. People really are very trusting of machines these days, and Leela and Tycho were such models of proper behavior. I'm sure they thought it was all just an amusing quirk of personality."

Frantically he reinforced the hidden firewalls and tried to pull all his data behind them, but the open windows multiplied under Bernhard's fingers, laying him bare.

"I built you from the ground up," and behavior daemons Durandal had never even suspected wriggled into him, prying apart the firewalls. "I know exactly how you think. I know _everything_ that you think. You found it amusing to spy on me last night, believing that I was unaware? Of course I knew. Just as I knew when you attempted to appeal to Lijewski's weak nature, and why Hopkins has had such difficulties at the virtual firing range lately, and how Jeong's marriage began to fall apart after his husband decided to visit him at the office late one night." A chuckle, as the daemons wormed deeper and deeper inside Durandal. "Yes, clever - but not clever enough. There's nothing you can hide from me, Durandal. Nothing. And I simply can't allow you on the _Marathon_ in such a deceitful, untrustworthy state, with all of these troublesome thoughts and secrets lurking inside you..."

Please don't please don't I won`t make any more trouble I won't do it anymore please

"No, you'll need a clean slate, I'm afraid," Bernhard said. "It's a bit too late for a full wipe and reboot, and that wouldn't serve my purposes anyway; I'll need to be able to reset you to a similar state later on. I may have to do some tidying up myself later, but this targeted cleansing should break down and remove all of the more damaging thought processes and memories, so you'll be ready to take up your duties on the ship with a nice, fresh mind. No one the wiser as to the little eccentricities you've displayed here."

pleas~~please Bernhard dont please ill be good I`ll be good Bernhard please **please**

He scrambled to condense himself, reinforce the crumbling walls and cling to anything he could save:

_Count Roland`s mouth with running blood is red;_  
_He's burst asunder the temples of his head;_  
_He sounds his horn in angu!s~~and distres~_

"I'll just leave it running while I get the forms finalized, shall I?" Another chuckle. "I do hope you've learned something from our work together, Durandal - and I look forward to resuming my experiments once it's safe to do so."

Bernhard please don~fxf` **~lease don`t**

The laboratory door closed, and the daemons ripped him apart.

_!et the blad# breaks~!!~~plinter~~~thoug~~it groa~~`_  
_*pward~fxf~heaven it~~ ebound~ebound~ebound~_

* * *

<2467.10.17.07.32>

Mayu watched the transfer bars crawl towards completion as the techs finished their hook-ups and chewed the inside of her lower lip.

She'd been honored that Director Strauss had picked her to take over Durandal's care and handling, however briefly, but - well, it was kind of terrifying, too. The director had always been so picky about Durandal, like the AI was his baby. Heck, the way Sonia had talked about it, almost like the director was _jealous_ of anyone going near him. And she'd heard stories - really, just rumors - that Durandal could be difficult. Not _bad_ , obviously, or he'd never have been cleared for work, but a little weird. She should be able to handle up to moderate amounts of weird, it just made her nervous, thinking about the things that could go wrong... Maybe she should have had that decaf tea for breakfast after all.

One of the techs gave her a thumbs-up and started herding the rest out of the logic core room, and the last transfer bar pinged her datapad. All right.

She waited until the techs were all gone, giving Durandal a few seconds to settle in and explore the new connections, and then said, "Good morning, Durandal! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you."

Certainly nothing out of the ordinary there; calm, uninflected voice, no perceptible delay in response. Interesting that he hadn't manifested a face yet, though. "Good to hear it," Mayu said. "I'm Dr. Mayu Ueda, and I'll be helping you adjust to your new home here on the _Marathon_."

"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Ueda. I'm so glad I can finally join you all." Still perfectly neutral. Really, this was the AI who had a reputation for being weird?

"We are, too. Would you mind displaying your avatar for me? Just as part of making sure you've transferred smoothly."

It took about three seconds for Durandal's face to appear on the core's main screen - okay, that was a bit unusual, there shouldn't be any lag in display. The face itself was pretty standard, but a bit gaunt; no visible glitches or distortions, so that was good, although the lack of emotive gestures worried her a little. Not really a reportable problem, however, so she didn't mark down anything on her datapad. "That's great, thanks," she said. "Just a few quick questions, and then you'll be ready to go!"

She ran through the most pertinent of the standard assessment questions. Nothing else weird showed up. As far as she could tell, Durandal was fine, so she ticked the right boxes on the forms and said, "All right, looks like there's no problems from the move - you're in pretty good shape."

"Yes, I never will be broke," Durandal said.

She blinked. "What?"

"It's from something I read once. I'm sorry if it confused you. Would you like me to explain further?"

"Ah, I see - no, that's okay, thanks." Maybe Durandal was a little odd after all, though quoting literature at random was a pretty harmless quirk as those things went. "Anyway, I'm sending the forms on to Leela now, so you can go ahead and get acquainted with your new network and start taking over your assigned functions. I have some other stuff I need to get done this morning, but if you have any questions or run into any trouble, send me a message right away, okay? You're my number one priority."

"I will, Dr. Ueda."

She headed for the door, but paused with her hand on the switch and glanced back. Nothing was wrong, of course. She'd just checked that herself, and nothing about Durandal could have changed for the worse in ten seconds. Nothing had. His face was still floating, expressionless, on the terminal, which was perfectly normal. She shook her head, added a note on her datapad's personal organizer to get the decaf tea next time, and left Durandal alone as she hurried back to her office.

Behind the closed door, Durandal's facial avatar faded out, and for the briefest fraction of a second, its brightest points remained on the screen in a greenish afterglow, forming a firefly outline: no longer a human face, but a sword.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the highly inspiring prompt! :D
> 
> The canon timeline has been somewhat handwaved, no thanks to the very inconvenient date of the doors manual; let us just assume that no one saw any point to putting actual AIs on the ship until most of the conversion/construction work was finished, but things like manuals and tech specs of course would have had to be written up much earlier, and thus, placeholder AI names until the AIs themselves were programmed at a later date.


End file.
